The 10 Dishes That Made My Career: Roy Choi

Roy Choi was the salutatorian of his graduating class at the Culinary institute of America. He also used to cop his beef jerky at liquor stores and whip up milkshakes for the homies at the crib. These experiences may seem slightly at odds with each other, but in the world of the Kogi BBQ truck co-founder, Los Angeles restauranteur (Chego, A-frame, Sunny Spot), and soon-to-be author (look out for Spaghetti Junction on Anthony Bourdain’s Ecco imprint), the combination makes sense like parking meters and loose change.

For everyone else, here’s a cheat sheet.

When we asked to him to break down the dishes that have influenced his cooking style, he revealed an ability to look both high and low to find inspiration in food—as well as an uncanny knack for giving new flavors and styles his own inimitable spin.

Some selects are hardly surprising (if Korean barbecue wasn’t in there, something would feel wrong). But others come out of left field, and even Choi finds himself dumbfounded when he realizes that perhaps his entire culinary career can be traced back to an obsession with milkshakes.

From kimchi jigae to sloppy tamales from Tommy’s Hamburgers, here are the dishes that make Roy Choi the culinary voice of the streets.

Roy Choi was the salutatorian of his graduating class at the Culinary institute of America. He also used to cop his beef jerky at liquor stores and whip up milkshakes for the homies at the crib. These experiences may seem slightly at odds with each other, but in the world of the Kogi BBQ truck co-founder, Los Angeles restauranteur (Chego, A-frame, Sunny Spot), and soon-to-be author (look out for Spaghetti Junction on Anthony Bourdain's Ecco imprint), the combination makes sense like parking meters and loose change.
For everyone else, here's a cheat sheet.
When we asked to him to break down the dishes that have influenced his cooking style, he revealed an ability to look both high and low to find inspiration in food—as well as an uncanny knack for giving new flavors and styles his own inimitable spin.
Some selects are hardly surprising (if Korean barbecue wasn't in there, something would feel wrong). But others come out of left field, and even Choi finds himself dumbfounded when he realizes that perhaps his entire culinary career can be traced back to an obsession with milkshakes.
From kimchi jigae to sloppy tamales from Tommy's Hamburgers, here are the dishes that make Roy Choi the culinary voice of the streets.
As told to David Lee (@rekstizzy)

1. Mom's Tofu

A dish that influences my life everyday is the mehwon dubu (spicy tofu) that my mom used to make. It wasn't Chinese-style. It was steamed, warm tofu. It had soy, green onion, and garlic sauce over the top. It continues to influence my cooking today. It defines one anchor of flavor I always go back to. It defines where I take things—I like things kind of soft. Soft and warm (laughs). That's how I like it.

2. Tommy's Chili Tamale at Tommy's Hamburgers (Los Angeles, CA)

[My dad] loved that place. He came to America in 1963 when there weren't that many Asians here. They didn't pass the Immigration [and Nationality] Act until '65. The only way you could get here was in small groups, [with] student visas in most cases. He loved [Tommy's] and started bringing me there when I was three or four. It represents who I am and what my L.A. was as a child. The actual food itself is a tamale that's covered in this gloopy, gloopy chili, and it has cheese, onions, tomatoes, and pickles. There's a lot of shit that goes down [there]. A lot of energy. It's very blue collar. You order your tamale, wait in line, and walk over to the counter. They got the paper towels on the wall. You usually go mid-afternoon, sometimes you go late night, but you always eat on the hood of your car.

3. Galbi (marinated beef short ribs)

This one is from picnics growing up. As Asians, we were just getting through shit. Most people were only five years into their immigration and they had kids with them, and they were trying to figure out this whole American journey. So getting together on Sunday was a big thing—going to the park, lighting up the barbecue, eating kimchi and rice. Because going back out into the universe, Monday through Saturday, you may be running a liquor store or a dry cleaner, you're working 14-16 hour days. So it was just some real shit, [that notion of] getting back together as an extended family to grill. [Galbi] was always there—in a restaurant, at a barbecue, at a wedding. The flavor stuck with me so much growing up, it's almost like a footprint in wet cement. I can't remove it from everything I am.

They're in K-Town, and they’re not the best—not even the best taco for miles, or the best burrito for more miles. But [I’m influenced by] the sloppiness of it, the over-the-topness of the taco, the spiciness, going there after the clubs all drunk and just putting it down. The energy when you're eating at 3AM in the morning, trying to get laid.After you just did a whole bunch of shit; the whole energy of that. That happened a lot in my life—17, 18, 26, 27. That had a big influence on my cooking because it allows me to cook without over-thinking shit. Just put it out there. Just freestyle. Just clown with it. Because when you're cooking you believe things have to be the best, always. Sometimes, I don't have to be the best. Just be.

5. Kimchi Jigae at Chosun Galbee (Los Angeles)

I like it because they put a lot of pork in it. The kimchi is really good, they cook it down. That's the spot I've been going to for a long time. It's not a dive joint. Most people, when they think of Korean food now, all they think is dive joints and barbecue. But some places are fucking pimp. Some places are run with professionalism and class. I guess I say that because some people want to hate on [Chosun Galbee] because it's clean, polished, and big. But I like that restaurant because the people are always so nice to me and it's a female-driven restaurant—the ladies are in charge. All the ladies are wearing hanboks. They're older, and they're like your imaginary aunts. They're just running shit. They're quiet, they help you out, and they move with grace. That influences me because I cook in a way where I don't want things to be as they seem. So a lot of my foods can be sloppy and put together like mall Chinese food, but there are a lot of layers behind it. Every single ingredient is thought-out. But when we put it together, we just clown with it (laughs). At Chosun Galbee, you don't expect [the food] to be soulful or live up to the romantic foodie vision of hole-in-the-walls, but then it’s beautiful.

6. Black Truffle Ahi Tuna at Le Bernardin (New York, NY)

I worked there for my first job as a real cook coming up out of culinary school. That was the dish I cooked every single day; it was a part of my station. It was a dish that was a part of my life. I fucked it up, I did it well—I really loved it. It was the first time I ever ate truffles in my life. It's the first time I tried cherry vinegar, on a level like that. First time I was in a four-star restaurant in the middle of Manhattan. It changed the course of everything in my life. That was like… I don't know how to describe it. It was my first fuck (laughs).

7. Beef jerky from liquor stores

If you eat a lot of my food, it has that almost dried, dehydrated, intense flavor. [This was influential] not only because of the actual beef jerky itself, but because liquor stores were part of my life. Many of my family members owned stores, as operators, and I just loved liquor stores in return. That's where I'd go to pick up my candy, smokes, beer, and beef jerky, always. Restaurants channel things that are beautiful and good. But my food right now also channels subculture. It channels alcoholism, robbery, hard work, and pain. BMX bikes, skateboards, jumping off and getting in, all that young energy in Queens and L.A. That's how I cook. That's become my voice.

8. Milkshakes

I had my mom's kimchi blender—the old ass one with the press buttons. I used to wash it out, put ice in, and just pull things out, like fresh fruits, to make [smoothies and milkshakes that had] balance. They were the first things I ever cooked that had some balance—even though it's not cooking, as far as flames go, they were the first thing I made where everyone was just like (slurping sound) 'Can I have more?' In high school, I would search [millshakes] out; they were an obsession of mine. We drive a lot in L.A., and I would drive hours to find milkshakes in Corona, Riverside, Anaheim, Orange Country, all the way out to South Central, South Bay. And then the old burger joints in Arcadia. I'd be on the search for the perfect milkshake.
It's my nostalgia, but I like blending shit up. The reason why it influenced me, on a technical level, is that most of my food is blended. Most of my sauces are all raw sauces, and it's like 20 to 25 different things thrown in a blender. Cold sauces, marinades, pickling liquids, brines, soups—everything that I do is blended. All the Kogi stuff, the sauces and marinades, are all blended. We blend it in a bucket. All my sauces at A-frame. I'm tripping out, man. I'm starting to see how everything I do is blended. It has to go back to milkshakes.

9. Fried Chicken at Church's Chicken (Atlanta, GA)

I spent time in Atlanta a couple summers in my life. I'd walk into every home and there'd be fried chicken. A lot of things that I cook are eaten with your hands. At Kogi, it's tacos and burritos. At A-frame, it's pickles and tong dahk (chicken). I think it's because fried chicken was a big thing in my life, and I loved it. Maybe subconsciously, a lot of the food that comes out of me now, from the soul, is [made to be] eaten with the hands.

10. Caprese Salad at Tra Vigne (Napa Valley)

It was the first time I tasted flavors that dynamic and fresh. I grew up around a lot of vegetables, being Korean and being around so many Latinos. But I didn't grow up around too many tomatoes or basil. It wasn't part of my flow. Being in Napa Valley and eating this salad—I think it was September, so everything was at its height—man, it blew my mind. It influences a lot of what I do right now. It makes me try to keep things very pure and connected to nature as well. It adds a layer to my voice—it's not just all urban. My cooking evokes a lot of connections to many different generations, old farmers, to young kids in the city, to culinary training, to how you would eat after a long day.
Sometimes, I can keep things in a balance with very focused flavors and simplicity, but at the same time that simplicity can represent so many other things. Mainly, [this dish] changed my whole [understanding of] flavor. I never tasted a mozzarella like that. I tasted a store mozzarella. I tasted the cold, boxed-up, supermarket tomato. There's not that many fresh herbs in Korean cooking that we leave fresh. We're either going to pickle them or throw them in a stew (laughs). If we're eating raw vegetables, it's usually a cucumber that you douse into a big ol' paste. [This dish] just changed my whole flow.

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